Vengeance Unwise
by Gabigail
Summary: If you want to know what it’s about, you’ll just have to read it I don't want to give it away in the summary.Rated Teen for some language.
1. Chapter 1

As per the norm, I shall begin with the Disclaimer:

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

Working Title: Vengeance Unwise

As the dawn breaks, the sun almost timidly, at first, begins her ascent into the vast morning sky— peeking over the horizon before climbing high above the tree line, pouring her generous warmth over the waking earth. He stirs in his sleep to the familiar sounds of morning, travelling through the wide-open bedroom window. The rat-tat-tat of woodpeckers off in the distance, an array of different bird calls in their search for food, the constant sound of the lake as it tenderly licks the rocky shore and tickles the beaches, and the breeze as it gently caresses the trees in a game of this way.

Amongst the familiar sounds outside, is the sporadic wisp of the light bedroom curtains as the panels flip and twirl in a graceful dance, scooped up by the breeze— rousing him from the comfort of sleeps safe embrace. Slowly, he opens his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the brightness and watches as the curtains and trees outside his window sway for a moment. A soft sigh of contentment, from a good nights rest, escapes his lips as he rolls over onto his side, then reaches for the watch that resides upon the bedside table. Last day, he muses as he tosses the sheets off his body and swings his long, lean muscular legs over the edge of the bed, letting his feet press against the natural flooring.

He's always loved his secluded cabin, perfectly nestled in the woods, not too far from the water. His sanctuary away from all that he knows is wrong with the world, far away from the monsters he spends his waking hours chasing, and dreaming about. This piece of paradise for him is the ultimate, perfect hideaway, untouched by the harsh realities of 'real' life, unconnected except via cell phone and only when absolutely necessary, yet far more secure then any government building. Memories, a place to feel safe, he finally stands and pads to the bath to begin his day.

Ever the creature of habit, he takes the familiar road that will lead him home. However, avoiding the rest stop where he encountered the 'footpath killer', stopping in the next town to fill the tank and indulge his sweet tooth with his customary chocolate bar. A strange feeling raises the hair on the back of his neck as he twists the plastic cap, closes the metal cover, places the pump back in its place, and walks towards the store to pay. Everything seems to remind him of his experience and he scolds himself for allowing it to get to him. The young man behind the counter looks up at him with a warm smile.

"That will be thirty-two fifty." He pauses as Gideon nods and holds up his hand as he contemplates on which chocolate bar will satisfy his sugar fix, calming him if only slightly and if only for a moment. His hand rests on his choice, placing the wrapped treat on the counter, and the young man adds it to the total. Getting out his wallet, he places the needed cash on the counter top. Quickly counting the bills, the cashier punches in the amount and begins to pull out the change. Somehow Gideon expects the cashier to stutter as the 'footpath killer' had, instead the kid grins and hands him the change.

"Thank you and have a great day."

"Thanks." Gideon replies quickly, shoving the change into his coat pocket, he returns to his SUV and the open road home. As the kilometres pass, the cityscape begins to creep into view and he turns the radio station once more to reflect the change. Arriving home, the usual city sounds greet him, but an odd silence encircles him as he closes the door. Stepping out of his hiking boots, tossing his jacket over the banister, he heads straight down to the laundry room and sorts through the dirty clothes, quickly dumping the darks, mostly jeans into the washing machine before heading back upstairs to make dinner.

---

For the students, lecturers, and support staff it's their usual Monday morning. Quantico's campus is an array of powder blue and grey polo shirts and kaki pants making their way to lectures, various training sessions, the library for research/study, or the various on campus coffee shops for a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast bite. Lecturers too, speed walk to the main buildings, stopping for coffee and the morning paper, as the support staff head to their respective buildings ready for a new day— a new week as the grind begins. Elle pulls into the lot and parks. Getting out of her car, she looks up at the greyish morning sky. The usually light cotton candy like clouds somehow seem heavy in their appearance, saturated with water, threaten to shower them with rain— perhaps even a thunderstorm, somehow feel as though they are hanging lower in the sky.

Like every morning before today, she walks past Gideon's office on her way down to the bullpen. However, this morning, Elle notices something odd. Gideon's door is closed and the lights aren't on, which she finds very odd because— one, he's usually the first member of the team to arrive. Normally, signing off on past cases or when they're working on an at home case, going over evidence; and two, he has a fairly open door policy; the door is open unless he's in a meeting. Perhaps he called in sick or has taken a couple of days off to stay at his cabin, she muses heading to her desk and the waiting game— if they happen to be lucky and not have a pending case, they can catch up on paperwork, until called to duty.

It isn't long before the team is once again assembling in one of the various conference rooms in preparation for yet another briefing, on yet another sick psychopathic something or other. All settle in their seats and Morgan glances once more towards Hotchner, who continues to stare sternly towards the open door, trying not to hint that something isn't right; yet everyone seems to be well aware of the fact that Gideon has yet to arrive. J.J. fingers the pile of files she has prepared for the team this morning, once receiving the formal request and she contemplates waiting for Gideon to arrive or Hotchner to indicate that they should continue. Clearing her throat, J.J. looks towards Hotchner for the go ahead. He continues to stare at the open door.

"Should we begin without him?" she seems to bring him back fro his musings and he turns his attention towards her.

"I can always bring him up to speed whenever he decides to join us." He says quickly looking at the door once more. Elle tries to maintain a neutral expression, but wonders what the underlying issue is as his tone feels more like icy water in her ears. J.J. seems to easily return to liaison mode and begins distributing the files to the appropriate member of the team— Hotchner and Gideon usually get all the particulars and she feels funny keeping Gideon's file, even if it is for safe keeping and she places it on the table under her own. Taking a breath to begin presenting the case, her gaze joins the rest of the teams towards the door and the agent standing upon the threshold.

"Agent Hotchner, may I have a word with you?" he inquires from just inside the door. All eyes on him immediately sense the tension in his posture, the tension set in his jaw, and a sense of panic washes over them. Hotchner stands, buttons and straightens his suit jacket, then directs the agent to the hall. In as hushed tone as he can manage, the agent holds the file out towards Hotchner. "I think you'll want to see this." He watches as Hotchner accepts the file and opens it. His face suddenly pales as he feels as though he has just been socked in the stomach and the wind has literally been knocked from his body. Lifting his head his dark eyes lock with the other agents.

"When did you get this?" he suddenly snaps the cardboard closed, carefully concealing the contents within.

"Not five minutes ago sir. It's all we have right now." He replies simply.

"The police?"

"The police what?" Elle's voice nearly betrays her. Hotchner turns to face her.

"We have a bit of a situation," he pauses turning back to the agent, "please keep me informed. I'll speak with Special Agent Henrys."

"I've already spoken to him. Your team will remain as far from the investigation as humanly possible." He replies.

"Then why bother showing us this?"

"It's being taken care of." He replies turning and making his way towards the elevators.

"Hotch?" Elle's voice is small and he is uncertain as to how much she has heard. Wanting to only tell the team once, he steers her back into the conference room, closing the door behind them. She sits silently beside Morgan and Hotchner clears his throat.

"I've just been informed that Gideon has been abducted from his home."

"When? Why weren't we informed sooner?" Reid says what's on everyone's mind. Hotchner only shakes his head.

"I don't have the particulars and from what I do have, we're not on the case."

"You cannot possibly be serious!" Elle exclaims in a huff. "Gideon has been abducted and we're supposed to what? Continue on as though nothing has happened?" she sighs and crosses her arms across her chest. Hotchner tilts his head in thought. J.J. knows exactly what he's thinking.

"Let me see if I can get something more." She stands and heads out of the room, leaving the rest of the team in silence. Finally broken by Elle springing to her feet and heading out the door in a huff.

"Elle! Elle wait up!" Hotchner calls and she turns to look at him.

"We have to do something. I'm not going carry on as if there isn't anything wrong. I'm going to find him." She looks down for a moment.

"My office." He pulls her in and closes the door. "We cannot do anything that could potentially jeopardise the police investigation. Nor the FBI's." he adds. "They will find him." He adds placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She sighs in response. "This is hard for all of us." He adds.

"I knew there was something wrong when he wasn't here before I arrived this morning." She looks away. "I should have called him or something. Maybe I should have mentioned it to you."

"You would have thought that he had called." Hotchner says in a hushed tone, trying to calm her down.

"So what? Are we to go off wherever and try to save someone else? Jason is a member of our team, he's like family." She lets the tears she had tried so desperately to keep at bay, make their way down her cheeks.

"Elle, it's going to be okay." Hotchner reaches for his Kleenex box and quickly hands Elle a tissue. "I know that this is difficult. It is for me too." He stops himself and puts an arm around her shoulders, letting her fall into him. Her sobs tell him that there is far more than her words ever could. She freezes within his embrace and looks up at him.

"We have to do something." He nods and in that moment a silent agreement to find Gideon has just been sealed.

---

"I told you that we shouldn't have clunked him over the head like that." He hears the man speak, but his words seem to dance round his heavy head.

"Boss said that he wanted him alive." The reply. "Stupid FBI agent getting in his way." He adds with a cough.

"Told you to quit that." The other says.

He wants to open his eyes, wants to see his surroundings, the other men in the room—something prevents him from doing so. Common sense dictates that once a prisoner sees his capture, they are as good as dead. So too is anything to let on that you're waking, his plan suddenly crashed by the low moan that escapes his parched lips.

"Hey Jimmy, you hear that?" one of the voices asks the other.

"Yeah, I'd say he's coming around. You are so lucky that he's alive." The other man says and Gideon can hear the sharp snap of a slap. Keeping his eyes closed, as he can only imagine the splitting headache that will follow such a violent blow to the back of his head and he wonders if the slightly damp coolness under his neck is cold sweat or blood. The only way they must have gotten him was to knock him out, which he is sure they had done, as the very last thing he remembers is trying to fight off a pack of men— obviously losing the fight, so too living on very borrowed time.

"Get up!" one of the men suddenly grabs him by the shoulder and jerks him into an upright position, his head spinning violently in protest against the sudden movement his body is forced to endure— far from the more gentler approach he had in mind. Finally opening his eyes he looks into those staring back at him, dark, almost black and soulless.

"You're lucky old man that the boss is letting you live." He pauses.

"For now." The other adds pacing back to the other side of the sparse room. A storeroom, or warehouse somewhere, he couldn't be sure. Nor could he be sure that anyone was aware of his current situation. The two men freeze as the loud, deliberate sound of confident footsteps can be heard on the other side of the door. The jingle of keys, followed by the loud thud of the lock and the squeak of the doorknob as it slowly turns and a man dressed in a very expensive suit enters the room.

"Agent Gideon, we meet again." He addresses Gideon in a very business like fashion. Gideon, still unable to collect himself, doesn't recognise the man standing in front of him.

"I don't."

"You will." He snaps. "You two had better make sure the FBI here is comfortable." He adds before leaving the room and locking the door behind him. Gideon's hands are bound together, his ankles as well, so he knows his chances of escape are pretty slim to none, at least for the time being. He carefully manoeuvres his hands and gently touches the back of his head— he can feel that the wound is still seeping, starting to clot, but still fairly fresh; an indication that he hasn't been missing long enough to be missed. They're probably on a case, he muses closing his eyes against the light, probably have no idea that I've been abducted— and that's my worst-case scenario, he sighs.


	2. Disobeying Orders

A/N: The disclaimer can be found in the first chapter. As this is a work in progress any and all constructive criticism is very much appreciated (please R&R).

---

Knowing that they could potentially be reprimanded for directly disobeying orders. The team arrives at the scene and takes their time getting out of the SUV; watching as members of the forensic team, still in the process of gathering the evidence that will assist in the prosecutions case against whomever has abducted Gideon. With Hotchner in the lead, acknowledging the forensic team, they duck under the caution tap that had been tied across the driveway, to a pair of trees standing proudly on the property to keep onlookers at bay— a tactic used mainly to avoid contamination of the crime scene.

Never being the overly emotional type, Elle finds that the lump in her throat holds her hostage as she slowly brings up the rear. Once they arrive at the front door, she stops in her tracks just outside the door. This feels wrong, she muses, we haven't been invited into his world; we shouldn't be poking around. She watches as photographers take the photographs that will act as references for the detectives working the case; a member of the forensic team runs a swab across a doorframe over something of interest— dried blood, smeared by either their suspect or Gideon himself.

"Excuse me." A police officer says curtly as he pushes past her.

"Sure." She finds herself replying, more under her breath than anything else. Noticing her absence, Hotchner turns around and backtracks.

"Elle?" he gently leads her to a quiet corner in the living room. She finds herself looking around the neat, hardly lived-in looking space. She sighs in disbelief that his home is practically as she had imagined it to be. However, standing in his living room sends a shiver of discomfort through her and she sighs against it.

"Hotch, I'm fine." She tries to pass turned up lips as a smile, which of course, he can see right through. She lets her eyes wander over the neutrally decorated space. The floor is a rich coloured hardwood, covered by a beautiful area rug, which anchors the seating arrangement in front of the fireplace. Figures that he wouldn't have a television in here, she thinks to herself, running her slender fingers along the sofa back, then following Hotchner out of the room towards the office where Morgan and Reid seem busy discussing their theories as to what happened.

"Reid, you know as well as I do that there is absolutely no way in hell that Gideon would go quietly." Morgan says as he glances over a book that lies open on the antique desk. Reid sets his slight frame in the empty seat and considers the layout of the room. "I know for a fact that he would have fought tooth and nail." He adds, making his way to the window and staring into the yard beyond recalling a previous case they had worked on and all in the home thought Gideon had lost it when he began to shout 'help me' at the top of his lungs; only to be rewarded and thus satisfied by the number of lights being turned on in the homes across the street.

"Something is totally off here." Reid stands, stating his observation; he folds his arms across his chest in a thoughtful manner. "The place is trashed as though whomever it was had been looking for something, yet the rest of the house is intact." He walks over to one of the many volumes scattered over the floor. "All of this was very deliberate. This is a method used to throw us off." He adds, putting the book on the now empty shelf. Elle, still finding it difficult to will herself to move, remains glued in place just upon the threshold— unable to walk into the room. Reid gives her a quick glance of understanding. "Do you think whomever did this will contact us?" he then inquires, walking carefully through the rubble of scattered books and papers. Morgan takes a turn to sit at the chair at Gideon's desk, perhaps to gain a better perspective, Elle isn't sure— what she does know is that none of it made any sense.

"None of this is following a script, or set pattern of behaviour. I don't know. I hope so." Hotchner turns away and while he exits the office, collects Elle, guiding her towards the front door.

"You know that you didn't have to come inside." He says in a hushed tone in her ear.

"I know, but I thought I needed to in order to help." She sighs and lets her head drop to look at the ground. "Its just that everything is so Gideon. Right down to the smell." The words leave her lips before her mind has the chance to put the breaks on. "Why Gideon?" she asks shaking her head. "It doesn't make any sense." She sniffles and lets Hotchner take her back to the SUV. Standing in front of the black vehicle, Hotchner puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Elle, take a deep breath and calm down. You know as well as I do that we'll figure this out." He says knowing that they are mere words, yet at the same time, when the right intension is applied they can soothe a tattered soul, soothe a worried mind, and soothe a broken heart. He does realise; however, that while he says this to settle her— he's also attempting to calm his own fears. Grabbing the file from him, she stops in her tracks.

"How many un-subs have we encountered with this MO?" she opens a passenger door and climbs into the SUV, leaving Hotchner to ponder his inquiry.

"Far too many." He replies under his breath heading back towards the house.

---

Cautiously opening his eyes, they rest upon twiddle dee and twiddle dumb still watching over him. Rather, sitting at the small metal folding table playing cards, the lone naked bulb not giving off enough light to fully reveal the space. Gideon notes that there are a few windows, which are far too high to climb out of— leading him to conclude that it's defiantly a warehouse of sorts. However, the absence of sound does little to assist in enlightening him as to his actual location.

"This is ridiculous! What does the boss think?"

"That he's going to get away." The other seems to understand and discards. Neither of them truly pays Gideon any attention as he struggles to sit up.

"He's up." One of them says, eyeing their prisoner, who ignores them and finally succeeds in propping himself up against the cool cinderblock wall. His hands begin to tingle because he has been forced to keep them in one position too long. Attempting to regain the circulation, he gently massages his hands. I know they'll get these cowards; he thinks to himself as his head feels far too heavy to keep up and he lets it fall to the side. Ah, that's better, he muses once again closing his eyes against the dull light and waits— still hopeful of a quick rescue; a quick end to this nightmare.

Just as before the click of well executed, deliberate steps followed by a slight pause can be heard— getting louder as they approach the door. Gideon knows them to be the footsteps of the man he's supposed to know— in which case, he must at the very least be the boss of his 'guards'. Just like his last visit, the door opens and the man in the expensive suit enters. Gideon takes in his appearance, his stature, and his face for a moment, only to recognise him from one of the various files they deal with. Indeed, he is familiar and Gideon almost shudders at the thought of what he is capable of. He is just one of Michael Russo's many contacts. Gideon recalls reading Hotchner and Morgan's reports pertaining to their case in Baltimore; locating a missing FBI agent a few months ago. Despite his recollection, he cannot think of his name. Lifting his eyes to the man standing in front of him— attempting to show no fear.

"What purpose does this serve?" he demands; his voice is gruff even in his own ears, very reminiscent of sandpaper as its dragged over a wooden surface. The man merely steps further into the room.

"All in due time." His reply is simple. "Will one of you get him some water!" he snaps, pausing and quietly observing the dishevelled man leaning against the wall before him. "I'm sure that you are well aware of the fact that good help is terribly hard to find." He adds. Gideon doesn't bother satisfying him with an answer, he has long ago had this guy pegged. He knows to wait is his best course of action. One of the creeps returns with a glass of water and holds it out towards him. He carefully accepts it between his two shaky, bound hands and takes a sip— trusting that if they were going to kill him, they would have done so already.

"Thank you." He says in a quiet, even, kind tone, happy to hear his voice returning to normal. The suit only ignores him and walks towards the table where the 'guards' have been playing cards to pass the time. Sitting in the metal fold-up chair, he leans towards Gideon.

"Between you and I, Agent Gideon this is nothing personal— it's just business." He pauses for a moment as if choosing his words with a great deal of care. "From my understanding of the situation, you and your team have been quite the thorn in my bosses side." Gideon merely stares back, not satisfying him with a response. "You don't seem to understand the repercussions of him having to hide out. The cops would have nabbed him the first chance the had." At this hint, Gideon's eyes grow wide.

"Anthony?" the name flies easily from Gideon's lips as he recalls the combo arson/torture/murder case they had worked on a few months back. The man in the suit doesn't reveal anything, only continues to stare at the seasoned profiler.

"As I said before, this isn't personal. I'm a businessman, so this is how it's going to go." He says in his sly matter of fact filled tone.

"You claim that this isn't personal— neither is what I do. All I do is try and make the world a bit better for the innocent." He cuts him off before he has the chance to lay down his terms. "However, taking into consideration that you have kidnapped a Federal agent; the probability that you will even have the option of negotiation for a lighter sentence, is slim to none— and I'm banking on none. Between you and I— you and your goons here will be caught. It's merely a matter of when. Enjoy this freedom while you can." He says having to let his chin rest on his chest as another wave of dizziness and the bile creeps up his throat, causing him to feel nauseous. The suit ignores Gideon's remark and continues to lay the groundwork for his carefully calculated plan.

---

Although she is well aware of the fact that Gideon's abduction isn't her fault, a strange sense that the weight of the world firmly resting upon her shoulders, works its way through her body. It's no wonder Elle cannot find sleep this night, and tosses the covers off in frustration. Reaching for her silk housecoat, she slips it over her long arms and secures it around her slender waist on her way out of her bedroom, her sanctuary. Her aimless wandering has led her to the kitchen, where she mulls around for the ingredients for a remedy her mother used to make whenever she couldn't sleep. Standing at the stove, she heats the thick liquid, stirring until it simmers; then carefully pours it into a mug, she walks into the living room. She doesn't bother with lights, as every nook and cranny are known to her by heart— and she stands at the large window, pulling back the curtain to stare out at the quiet street, basked in the gentle light of the nearly full moon and the street lamps.

Blowing over the mug, to cool its contents slightly, she sips in hope of the comfort it offered so long ago. However, this time, this night is of little assistance and with a sigh, she lets the curtain slip from her slender fingers back into its place alongside the window and she resumes wandering. Sitting in one of her favourite chairs, she picks up the book she had been reading earlier and finishes the contents. Heading back towards the kitchen, she rinses the mug and places it in the sink before going back upstairs to try and get some rest—the hours; however, continue slipping by far slower than usual as her thoughts once more return to finding a way to assist her colleague, her unknowing mentor, and possibly her friend. Still unable to sleep, she snuggles into the bed, arranges the covers over her lean body and stares up at the ceiling as though the answer will somehow appear.

---

Haley turns onto her side, moaning softly in her sleep and reaching out towards Aaron's side of the bed expecting him to be there. When her fingers rest on his empty pillow, she opens her eyes.

"Aaron?" she whispers as her eyes adjust to the darkness and with that the realisation that he isn't there. She sits up, uncovers herself before grabbing her terry cloth bathrobe and heads downstairs. She stands at the foot of the stairs and watches him for a long moment, his jet black hair shimmers with moonlight as he sits on the sofa staring at, what she is sure is the wall. Almost as though he's emerging from a daze, he turns his head.

"Haley, did I wake you?" he seems distant to her, distracted by everything happening around them.

"No, what's going on?" she inquires, knowing that she's bending the 'we don't talk about work' rule. She quickly closes the distance between them, settling herself in his arms, resting her cheek on his chest and listens to his heart beating. She knows and appreciates the fact that he tries his best to differentiate between his home and work life, however, she needs him to talk to her— as its obvious that he needs her to understand.

"Haley, I." He stops himself. She plays with the buttons of his shirt.

"It's okay, I know you need to talk. It isn't healthy for you to be brooding like this." She adds, lifting her head and looking into his dark eyes.

"I don't know if we're going to find Gideon." He whispers, kissing the top of her honey blonde head.

"Yes, you will. I have faith in you, and I'm sure he does too." She kisses his chin and places her head back on his chest.

---

To Be Continued…


	3. Familiar Suspect

A/N: The disclaimer can be located in the first chapter. I'm sorry that it took this long to post, as I have been in the process of adding the final touches on the final chapter (I really wanted to have that completed before posting this; however, prolonging the inevitable seems wrong somehow).

Please R&R and more importantly--Enjoy the story.

---

Hotchner isn't fond and even dreads the arrival of Special Agent Henrys—he knows it's inevitable. However, at the very least, while he awaits the visit, he can be productive. Get the team in gear, comb through the many files J.J. has miraculously managed to snag from her many contacts on the crime scene and forensic investigators. Sure as rain, just as he sets himself to review another file, the inevitable knock upon his door ensures.

"Come in." he says in his professional tone, as the doorknob turns and a tall agent enters the room. "Agent Henrys." Hotchner acknowledges the agent and closes the file, placing it upon his neatly cluttered desk.

"Agent Hotchner, to be frank I'm not in the least surprised by the reaction of your team." He pauses taking in the office. "I knew that your most likely course of action would be to assist in the investigation of the abduction of Special Agent Jason Gideon. However, by the intricate nature of the situation, you and your team can appreciate that it's probably for the best that you remain on the sidelines. You're too close, if you get my drift." He adds.

"I disagree and I know for a fact the team agrees with me. I gave my word that we would find him. I'm not going back on it." He states staring the superior in the eye. Refusing to back down Henrys shakes his head.

"Irrationality leads to mistakes, which in turn leads to unhappy endings." He sighs and leaves Hotchner to mull over their discussion. Assuming that meant that the team could move forward as they saw fit, he gathers the files and heads to J.J.'s office to finalise the best course of action.

"Has Gideon's abductor made contact?" Morgan inquires, fingering the file in front of him. Reid taps his pen impatiently.

"Not that I'm aware of. I was hoping for something." Hotchner sighs in frustration. "What I don't understand is why abduct Gideon in the first place."

"Take the head and what's left?" Reid looks up.

"They don't want to be caught." Morgan snaps.

"There was a lot of damage done to his office. Similar to ransacked rooms in other instances. Did forensics get any prints at the scene?" Reid inquires, as Elle skims through that report.

"Nothing more than partial. Says here that they're in the middle of running them through the system as we speak. The results should be quick if the abductor or abductors have records."

"Abductors." Morgan looks at the door where Garcia stands.

"Guys, I'm sorry. I just heard back from my contact over at the crime lab. It isn't good." Hotchner gestures for her to have a seat. She enters the room, opening the her file, which contains the print outs that they had been waiting for. "One of the guys is a Harvey McCain." She sits in the vacant seat.

"Obviously known to police. His record?" Reid rests his chin on the back of his hand and scribbles on the page in front of him.

"Um, rape, theft, nothing major in the sense of jail time. Seems to get off with a slap on the wrist." She fingers her glasses. "However, having said that, there is an outstanding warrant for his arrest. Apparently he's been involved with an Anthony."

"Last name?" Elle inquires.

"None listed. He's on our books as well. Virginia PD are in the process of questioning his wife at their home. I suppose we'll get a surname from her. That's all I have at the moment." She places her pink-feathered pen on the table. "I do have this." She pulls the grainy photograph from the file and places it on the table.

"I remember that dude!" Morgan exclaims. "Black Leather Jacket."

"This isn't part of his motive. He tortures, murders, and burns the evidence to the ground; he doesn't kidnap. Virginia PD didn't catch him?" Hotchner's eyebrows rise.

"Apparently not." Morgan replies gritting his teeth.

"Gideon had been sure that they would have apprehended him not long after. It's part of them, they can't just stop." Hotchner stops himself as a wave of fear washes over him, causing his stomach to fall into his shoes. Elle isn't as lucky and runs from the conference room to the nearest ladies room. Reid pales as does J.J. and Garcia looks towards Morgan briefly, only to catch a look of fear she had never imagined she would ever see from him.

Hotchner nods towards the door and follows Elle. He is well aware of the fact that he cannot barge into the ladies room, so he contents himself to stand just outside the door and waits for her to emerge. When she finally does reappear, she looks far worse than she had earlier that morning. He directs her to the makeshift break room and sits her in one of the chairs, then proceeds to put together a cup of coffee for her, and one for himself. Sitting beside her, she takes one of the mugs.

"Thanks." She sips the steaming liquid and finds the bitter sting that follows not as bad as usual. "I'm sorry." She leans forward and places the mug on the table and pauses— Hotchner reaches out and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. She stares at the carpet as if it's the most interesting thing in the room.

"Gideon is better at this then I." He says almost stiffly and Elle turns to look at him; his hand still resting on her shoulder— usually rigid, bearing a fantastic strength; however, its slightly slumped, which mirrors the fear in her brown eyes and the tension running throughout her body. He smiles warmly at her slightly puzzled expression, as it finally hits her. It is in this moment that Reid enters the break room.

"Are you okay?" his tone reflecting the concern etched on his young face, which seems to have aged within the past twenty-four hours. She doesn't answer as Hotchner takes the mug from her and rinses it with his own.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just."

"I know. It's Gideon. Elle, we're all worried about him." Reid walks over to her and awkwardly places a comforting, gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"Thanks Reid." She smiles, pats his hand with her own and they rejoin Morgan and J.J.— Elle half expects to see Gideon sitting in one of the chairs, his thin wire glasses perched upon his thin nose, his head buried in a file ready to work through a theory, or already having the answer. Sighing, she sits herself beside Morgan and they begin the process of dissecting the information.

---

_Flashback_

_The sun is warm on his back as he stands on the edge of the dock looking down into the deep water preparing to dive. Once he hits the water, it's cool and refreshing as it caresses his skin and he surfaces, quickly wiping the water from his eyes. Treading water, he watches her as she sits on the dock beside the ladder timidly dipping her delicate toes, then her feet into the cool lake— all the while complaining that the water is far too cold for a swim._

"_Get in here! It's beautiful!" he hollers, dunking himself under again. "Ah, a warm spot." He taunts her, matching her smile with a huge happy grin of his own, while she continues to dangle her feet just inches above the water. "If I get my hands on you, I'll toss you in!" he swims towards the dock. She laughs— its carried in a echo across the lake, and he marvels at the sight of the lovely woman, her raven locks catching the sun's warm rays, teasing him, daring him to follow through with his threat. Realisation that he's actually going to toss her in, she springs to her feet and heads back towards the cabin— with him not far behind, soaking wet. The towel left on the dock. _

His pleasant thoughts; however, quickly dissipate with the annoyance of a ringing cell phone. Sighing heavily, Gideon slowly wakes, opening his eyes— he is reminded of his current situation and that time, which is still ticking onwards, a luxury he feels is quickly running out.

"Really?" a pause with a few grunts of understanding follow, "he wants us to leave FBI here unattended?"

"What'd he say?" the other whispers.

"He's going to what? You're serious? Got it. We're out of here." He flips his phone closed and turns to his partner. "The boss says that Tony's going to pay FBI, here a visit and, as a result, no longer requires our services." He explains.

"Well I doubt that you'd want to be here to see what he probably has in store for FBI." The other states and Gideon catches the flicker of fear in his eyes. Not a good sign, he knows this means whoever Tony is, he definitely means business— a fact that actually makes him nervous.

---

Thursday:

Three days have past and deepens the sense of defeat running through the bones of the team members as Hotchner and J.J. still track, trace, and sift through Virginia PD's never ending reports on the man in the grainy photograph. Problem is, the trail runs stone cold after the arson/murder case they worked on two months ago. J.J. lets the file she's been reading fall to the table with a loud, drawn out sigh of utter frustration.

"I have checked with all of my contacts and it's official. We have absolutely nothing on this guy. He doesn't exist beyond that night. Finding Vincent was a piece of cake in comparison.

"Anthony Rogers." Morgan says from Hotchner's door.

"Rogers?" Hotchner and J.J. reply in unison.

"I just got off the phone with detective Newell and she has just finished speaking with his wife. A Hope Rogers."

"And?" Hotchner prompts him.

"She hasn't seen him in two months. Apparently, when they interviewed Nicholas Brooks; her name came up."

"Who's Nicholas Brooks?" J.J. stands.

"He claimed to be an associate of Anthony Rogers. Apparently Rogers hired him to have Gideon abducted."

"She has no idea of his whereabouts?"

"None, and Brooks won't give up Gideon's location unless the charges are dropped."

"Didn't she report her husband missing?" Hotchner asks while making notations.

"No. Apparently Rogers left strict instructions in the event of a 'disappearance'. Calling the cops definitely wasn't an option."

"Does she work?" J.J. asks, pressing the top of her pen against her lips.

"No. She's a housewife. He sends her money though." Morgan cannot stop the grin from ear to ear.

"What's that smile for?"

"Where does one go to do that?"

"A bank?" J.J. rolls her eyes, feeling as though they're wasting precious minutes.

"She just happened to have one of those cheques." He holds a photocopy out towards Hotchner. "Bank surveillance tape." He holds out a plastic bag. Hotchner smiles and shakes his head, happy to have something. Holding up his hand, he quickly picks up the phone and dials Elle's cell.

"You're at the station now?" he pauses and picks up a pen. "We need you to get that location." While he gives Elle the orders, J.J. walks over to Morgan, who sits in one of the chairs in front of Hotchner's desk.

"I'll get this to Garcia." She whispers and takes the tape to Garcia's domain.

As she walks down the hallway, she feels as though everyone's eyes are on her, and from the looks of condolences from the other teams, she feels a knot in her stomach tighten. They may or may not have gone through this experience, but they all appear to presuppose the worst-case scenario surfacing as the only logical conclusion. She puts that thought aside and taps the doorframe with hope.

"Entrée!" Garcia says in her usual perky tone, despite the fact Gideon's abduction is affecting her as much as the rest of the team. J.J. quickly enters the cool space and holds out the plastic bag with the tape.

"Surveillance tape from the bank Anthony Rogers got the cheque from."

"Really?" Garcia takes the tape and shoves it into one of the many slots and the images come up on the screen. "Comparing this image, which mind you is far superior to that grainy thing I had earlier." She pauses, pushing buttons here, clicking the mouse over sections there. "BINGO!" she smiles and prints out an enlarged photograph.

"Thanks so much Garcia." J.J. exclaims happily.

"One problem."

"What?"

"We don't know where the hell he is." She sighs and turns back to one of the many screens. "If we knew that, we'd be totally set and this would be over."

"And we could go back to the way we were." J.J. says under her breath, heading back down the hall towards Hotchner's office. "Here." She holds out the photo. Morgan looks down for a moment. "What?"

To Be Continued...


	4. Giving Up Is NEVER An Option

As always, the disclaimer can be found in the first chapter.

A/N: A HUGE thank you to those of you who have taken the time to read and to those who have been so kind as to leave a review. I hopefully will have time, possibly during a writing draught, to do another edit and, and as always shall take comments into consideration at that time. I will definitely consider them in future endeavours. To all, I hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it (Although I will admit that I never thought I'd get past the first page) and leave a little note in the review section with questions/comments/suggestions (Like so many other's I really appreciate feedback).

---

Elle sits across from Brooks, who only seems content to stare down his long, thin nose at her. She sits confidently in her seat; not letting any of the lewd jesters he makes with his lips upset her in any way. Cannot show weakness, she thinks as she plays the waiting game for a few more moments. He continues to stare back, then rolls his eyes as Reid enters the small room, more files in hand, he sets them in front of her.

"I hear Virginia PD are through with your thugs. They rolled on you Brooks." She pauses reading his reaction. From the way he slightly shrinks back, she figures this tactic will be more successful than playing nice. "They ratted you out and as a direct result they got their deals. What do you have? Nothing. Seriously, at this point, you will be lucky if you ever take another breath of fresh air as a free man."

"What's your deal lady?" he spits back, banging his hands on the table in front of him. "I've already gone over all of this with those stupid officers earlier. Do you honestly think that threatening me, or making me think that they steam rolled me to save their own Asses is going to get me to tell you anything? I'm their BOSS! I provide them with the money they take home to their whorish unsuspecting wives! Without ME they are NOTHING!" he sighs loudly and waits for her next move.

"You thought I was going to make you a deal? You honestly think that I would cut you a deal? Once the prosecution assembles their case, you're done." She closes the file in front of her and makes a move to stand.

"Why would they send you in, if you don't have any authority? Sending a woman to do a mans job." He sneers, hitting a nerve.

"Who do you think you are?" she pauses, tilting her head in thought. "Let me see. You think you're the big, bad mob guy who plays with peoples lives and doesn't give a crap about anything. Not even himself." She bangs her hands on the tabletop, letting the sting work its way up her arms before leaning in towards him. "Gideon dies, and no one will care if you're body turns up next. Don't think that we don't have contacts on the inside." She turns to leave, her threat actually causes him to think— especially since he's ordered such 'things' to occur.

"Wait, I'll talk. Just don't call Hell's Cleanup Crew." He looks down for a moment, defeat in his expression when he finally returns his gaze. Reid, meanwhile, pens the address and dials Hotchner, who quickly assembles the rest of the team and heads to the location.

---

The door slowly creeks open, Gideon is surprised that he hadn't heard footsteps, or the key in the lock, he must have either really been in or out of it, or been day dreaming again— but then again, he's still unsure as to how long he's been here. The windows let in so little light, he can't really tell if its day or night. His back still pressed against the cool cement, he attempts to hold his head up, at the same time using the wall for leverage.

"Agent Gideon." The voice is gruff, unfeeling, and soulless. Gideon finds his equilibrium and nods. "You nearly had me. Probably should have." He states, putting the leather case on the cement floor with a deliberate thud. Gideon shudders internally at the thought of what he knows to be in that case—and whether or not he has enough time to avoid his slated fate. "But I was too smart for you and your team." He pauses, watching Gideon for a reaction.

"Or so you thought." Gideon stares him down, his gaze falling on the shimmer of the butt end of the gun tucked in the waistband of his black jeans.

"Right. My only problem is that I've been hiding out two months. Away from my home, away from my wife, and most importantly away from what I'm GOOD AT!" he punctuates his final point with clenched teeth and a snarl, Gideon sees that his fuse is short, which might work to his advantage should he have the skill to acquire the time.

Meanwhile, while Gideon abuses his stalling tactic, his teammates arrive and assemble themselves, ensuring a secure perimeter. There is no way in hell any of them will let their un-sub get away. Dressed in FBI bulletproof vests, with guns drawn— poised in the off chance that he has the building guarded.

"We don't want to cause too much noise." Hotchner's cool voice can be heard over their communication devices. Snipers are set up on the surrounding buildings and the team gather around a door.

They ready themselves to enter and Morgan tries the door, happy that for once he doesn't have to kick it in, and nods for them to follow.

"I know exactly what you're capable of." Gideon strikes back; Anthony ignores his outburst and deliberately opens his case— popping the metal closures one at a time, their snaps echo in the space. Gideon can only hope that his team hasn't given up on him— that they will come to his aid. He catches the glimmer of a long blade, which is followed by a rope, cord, and duct tape. Turning his head away, knowing his fate, he closes his eyes for a moment against the pain he knows he will endure— knowing that it's the anticipation of the first cut that is usually the most difficult. Almost feeling how the skin will be parted in this case, slowly and deliberately, a method that's not very appealing to him, he cannot help but cringe.

"Don't you want to know? See how I do what I do? Experience, first hand, what I did to all those people?" Gideon manages to shake his head. "Want to know something? What I do is almost a lost art. Yet I know that you can appreciate that it's one of the best methods employed to get prisoners to talk. I don't want to learn your deepest, darkest secrets, or biggest fears. I could care less, hence the leather strap to keep your shouts of agony quiet." Anthony seems to enjoy explaining his method.

"Do you usually spend this much time with your victims?"

"They would never appreciate it as I know you do." He replies with another twisted smirk. "Just so you know, this is when I would normally place this leather strap between your teeth— I have found that it is the best method to keep pleas and screams of agony to a low decimal point. However, in this case, or at least at this point in time, I don't really see the need." He fingers the leather and closes the distance between them. Grabbing Gideon's chin, he lifts his head, forcing him to look at him; forcing him to remember his face. His face mere inches from Gideon's; his attention is drawn to the dried blood on the wall behind him. "What's this?" he demands, then forces Gideon's head down to inspect him. "They will learn that they ought to follow instructions." He says, returning to his case and pulling out a small box that from where Gideon is, looks very much like one that would hold a piece of jewellery. However, when the box is opened, Gideon can just see the fountain pen that's nested on the cushion. Almost holding his breath for if he thought for a moment that his team hasn't been able to locate him— its real now; and the probability that it will be his dead body that they will be recovering begins to truly sink in.

Trying to make some sort of move, Anthony notices and immediately grabs him by the shoulders, seemingly helping him to his feet, he slams him up against the wall, knocking the spot on the back of his head with a loud thud in his ears. Wincing in pain, Gideon takes deep breaths, attempting to gain his balance. At least I'm on my feet, he muses, opening his eyes, which once again fall on the butt end of the gun.

"I don't usually administer brute force; however, in your case, I'll make an exception." He hisses and Gideon doesn't have a chance to avoid the fist that makes contact with his jaw. He can taste the blood, a metallic flavour in his mouth, which he has to spit out to avoid choking. While he gathers himself, Anthony rushes to the table where he artfully set out his tools and grabs one of the knives and without much thought, he almost blindly runs it down Gideon's left arm, easily slicing through shirt sleeve— a deep cut that quickly bleeds, moistening the shirt.

While Gideon still fends for his life, the team enters the seemingly endless warehouse— with packed boxes resting upon skids waiting to be delivered; well-kept machinery sitting still, waiting to be turned on to resume the prescribed task, and the odd screech of rats— scurrying from one shadowed section to another. They carefully weave their way through the vast space, ensuring that there aren't any surprise guards concealed awaiting for their arrival. Once satisfied Morgan, Reid, and Elle follow Hotchner to the last door. They're eyes still haven't quite fully adjusted to their surroundings, grey shapes and dark corners.

"I must confess, I'm usually far more calculated in my method." Anthony begins his play-by-play. "Despite the fact that I am confidant that there isn't anyone within earshot, I have a feeling that I'll have to be a lot quicker. In which case, you're going to miss out on your experience. I really do work better with a more generous schedule." He works his way back towards Gideon and tilts his head in thought. "Hmm, I wonder if I really should prolong this any longer. It really isn't doing anything for me." Gideon doesn't answer. "Well then. Let the fun begin." He grins and turns around, picks up the other knife ready to truly begin. Gideon; however, has other ideas. Still oblivious to the fact that his team is on their way, he hasn't completely lost hope, just knows that if he doesn't try this— he probably won't make it through this day. In which case he won't see his team members, enjoy time away at his beloved cabin, or a quiet evening at home.

Hoping beyond reason that his strike won't be in vain, he awaits Anthony's return with the knife. Taking a cleansing breath and centring himself— Gideon waits for Anthony to ready himself for whatever he has planned and lunges forward at him; at the same time he manages to free gun from the waistband and miraculously catches his balance instead of crashing to the floor along with Anthony and the knife, which hits the cement floor with an ear piercing clatter. He even surprises himself that he is able to hold the gun between his bound hands and stands firm, pointing the gun directly in Anthony's face. Anthony remains on his back, hands poised, palms up, in defeat.

"GIVE ME A REASON!" Gideon shouts at the top of his lungs, as a moment of liberation rushes through his body, mixing with the adrenaline and excitement. Ready to pull the trigger— not thinking, nor really caring of the consequences of his actions as he finds himself rationalising his actions with however many days spent in this hell hole, sufficient justice. Still unaware of the fact that his teammates and ample backup has arrived, he's sure that the only way out of the situation is to shoot the un-sub, grab one of the knives to free himself of his bonds and find a phone to get backup and an ambulance.

The sounds of the door as its being violently ripped form its hinges, as Morgan kicks it in, Gideon's gaze falls on the open door as his team rushes in. Looking around they breathe a collective sigh of relief that Gideon is still alive. Hotchner and Morgan quickly gather Anthony, one on either side, violently yanking him to his feet, sure to get in an elbow. Reid frees Gideon of his bonds and hands him his pair of handcuffs.

"The honours?" he says quietly and they watch, as Gideon seems to think about it for a moment.

"With pleasure." He replies, accepting the offered handcuffs, and not so gently places them around Anthony's wrists. Hotchner pushes Anthony out the door to the nearest officer, who seems to catch him just in time and rejoins his team, who are all gathered around Gideon in a tight cluster.

"I'm fine." He says in a quiet voice, yet it's betrayed as his legs feel as though they're about to buckle, Morgan sets himself under his arm like a crutch as Reid quickly locates a chair and grabs it quickly for Gideon sit and collect himself.

"Here." Reid says, holding the chair for Morgan to help him sit.

"Where are the paramedics?" Hotchner demands.

"Entering the building now." The response comes through the communication device.

"Hotch, I'm fine." He tries to convince them that all is well.

"You probably have a concussion or something." Reid comments, checking out the injury at the back of his head. "A few stitches for your arm as well." He adds as Elle, who has placed herself beside him, continues to keep the pressure on the deep slash on his forearm. Gideon nods, and places a hand on top of hers in thanks. She looks up and smiles at him; he returns her smile with one of reassurance.

It isn't long before the small team of paramedics enter. Each quickly assessing Gideon's injuries, one using a small light to see how dilated and responsive his pupils are, while the second checks his vitals. Another paramedic has Elle remove the material she had been using to stop the bleeding and quickly places an absorbent bandage on his arm— securing it with yard gauze, then the first paramedic tends to his head wound, placing a large square sterile pad over the still seeping wound and wrapping the yard gauze around his head to secure the sterile pad. The other team members wait for a moment before the initial assessment is complete, and satisfied that he is stable, without a word, they assist the primary examiners in gathering Gideon and quickly place him on the stretcher, then whisk him to the awaiting ambulance. Hotchner had been quick to get the information regarding which hospital they were taking him to; and gathers his team to meet Gideon.

---

Reid paces once more from one end of the waiting room to the other while Morgan sits across from Elle and Hotchner. J.J. and Garcia just arrive, quickly spotting the team and bring them coffee.

"How did you know?" Elle says forcing a smile. "Nothing stronger though?" J.J. shakes her head and hands Hotchner the paper cup.

"Thanks." He smiles and pulls the tab up, letting the steam escape. Morgan nods and begins drinking his. J.J. sits herself beside Morgan and Garcia sits on his other side.

"So what's the situation?" J.J. inquires leaning in towards Hotchner and Elle. "No one has told you anything?"

"I don't think they can." Morgan replies. "All we can do is wait until a family member arrives."

"We're not considered family?" Reid inquires from his place.

"Not officially." Hotchner replies, sitting back in the plastic moulded seat. "However, one of us will have to probably take him home." He adds, as though looking for a volunteer. "If he has any signs of a concussion, they will no doubt keep him for observation for twenty-four hours." He adds sitting back in his seat.

"I'll take him home." Reid says quietly. "While he rests, I can fix his office for him." He adds with a shy smile. Hotchner nods and tosses the keys towards him.

"Good. I'll be right back. I'm just going to give Haley a call, let her know that everything is okay. She's been worried." He stands and heads towards the sliding doors. Reid sits beside Elle and in a gesture of reassurance; he takes hold of her arm and gives it a quick gentle squeeze.

"Gideon is going to be fine. It's merely a matter of a few stitches, some pain medication and someone to watch over him for twenty-four hours." He whispers and Morgan smiles at the thought of the poor lad who had volunteered.

"Reid my man, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into." He says as Hotchner returns and sits beside Elle once more. Their exchange is interrupted by the arrival of a doctor.

"Agent Hotchner?" he says looking up from the clipboard he holds.

"Yes." Hotchner replies.

"May I have a word with you?"

"Of course." He stands and follows the doctor, who the team assumes has been given permission to speak to him with regards to Gideon's condition. After he speaks with the doctor, he heads down the hall to the room. The rest of the team follow and hover at the door. A collective sigh of relief escape their lips as Hotchner joins them, not surprised in the least that they have gathered in wait. "He'll live." Hotchner smiles warmly. "One at a time okay." He adds and Reid enters the room.

"So what's his condition?" Elle inquires pulling Hotchner away from the group.

"The doctor wants to keep him for observation. He's surprised that the head injury wasn't worse than it is. It's fairly mild, considering he sustained blunt force trauma, which probably occurred on Sunday evening. Then it looks as though he had been tossed up against the wall-- I'm sure wouldn't help the matter. The cut to his forearm will heal in time. However, Gideon isn't really himself right now." He looks down for a moment.

"I can imagine." She sighs quietly and glances at the door watching as Reid exists and Morgan enters.

"He asked for you." Hotchner adds, raising his eyes to meet hers. She reaches out and runs her hand down his arm, he sense the fear in her touch.

"Once everyone else has had a chance to see him, I'll slip in. I seriously don't see Reid managing Gideon on his own." She smirks, her glance falling on the door and Garcia exiting. "He's probably tired and needs some rest." She adds. Hotchner puts an arm around her shoulders and steers her past the team and gently pushes her over threshold.

Entering the room, Elle's breath is caught in her throat. Its one thing to see an agent injured in the field, but another to visit after the fact. She stands at Gideon's side and silently takes in the sight before her. His head is still wrapped, as is his arm. He looks up at her for a long moment, a glimmer in his eyes.

"I'm fine." He smiles and she nods before taking his hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I hear Reid has volunteered to take me home?" he seems a bit worried.

"Yes, the doctor won't release you unless someone can be with you." She pauses and gives him the most serious look she has ever given him. "Gideon, do you have the slightest idea of the trauma your body has sustained? Blunt force trauma is serious business. Add to that the possibility of dehydration and blood loss, then a second blow to the back of your head—that alone equates at the very least a mild concussion. Do you honestly think that they would release you without having someone there to assist you?" she puts a hand on her slender hip. "What if you get dizzy and pass out or something?" her tone one of frustration as he seems to refuse the severity of his condition.

"Gideon, it's that or you stay put." Hotchner says budding in. Holding up a hand, Gideon nods his understanding.

"Anything to get out of here and face that bastard." He exclaims. Elle gives Hotchner quite the look before turning back to Gideon and smiling.

"You won't be able to return to work." Hotchner says folding his arms in front of him. "Not right now anyways." He adds with a stern look, his dark eyebrows weaving together.

"Aaron, I'm fine. I just need something to eat that will tie me over and a good nights rest." Gideon replies moving to get up, so he can get dressed. Elle shakes her head. "What?" he looks up at her with an expression she has seen before. He's trying to get a read on her and it always makes her feel exposed.

"Don't you dare profile me." She snaps looking away. "Do you not realise how close to losing you we were? Anthony could have knocked you right out and you wouldn't have had a fighting chance." He can see the fire in her eyes. "It could have been your dead body we found." She adds and sighs loudly. He reaches out and grabs onto her arm.

"Elle, calm down. Everything turned out the way it was supposed to." He says in his soothing tone, and she sits beside him.

"That really isn't the point now is it?" she turns her head to face him and he drapes his arm around her.

"I thought about that. Actually, I had the chance to think about a lot of things." He smiles once more and Elle stands, rejoining Hotchner.

"I'll have the nurse prepare the papers and we'll get you out of here." Hotchner says taking Elle with him. Left in their wake, Gideon merely shakes his head and stands up to grab his clothes from the nearby chair. Emerging from the room, he expects to find Reid at the very least waiting for him, but he's surprised that they all remained. J.J. looks up from the magazine she had been reading.

"I'll drop you and Reid off and then head back to Quantico." Hotchner states as they make their way towards the parking lot. "Am I taking you to Reid's apartment or your place?" he asks releasing the locks and the team opens doors and climb in.

"I'd rather go home." Gideon says weakly. Hotchner nods and gets in the driver's seat.

"You're still not yourself." Reid comments, helping him into the SUV.

"Just don't tell Elle that okay?" he whispers. Reid nods and pulls the door closed.

---

With the return of Monday morning, her customary cup of coffee cup in one hand and her jacket flung over her arm, Elle steps off the elevator and takes her usual route to the bullpen. Rounding the corner, the light pouring from Gideon's wide open door, catches her eye. Odd, she muses, knowing that he wasn't supposed to be returning to work. Walking towards his office, she pops her head around the door.

"Welcome back." She says with a bright smile, carefully masking her disapproval.

"Good morning." He replies, beckoning her into his office. She sits in one of the seats across from him.

"You're back early. I thought you would have a couple of days off to recover." She takes a sip of coffee. "Had I known you would be back, I would have brought you a coffee." He chuckles. "Am I missing something?" she inquires lightly.

"Elle, I know you." He pauses with a grin. "I know that you are furious with me." She nods, and tilts her head keeping her happy grin.

"I'm just glad that you're okay. That you did what you had to do."

"So if I were to tell you that I wouldn't have thought twice about shooting him."

"I'd think nothing of it. Survival of the fittest." She replies, taking another sip of her coffee. "Gideon," she stops herself. "Jason, you forget that I too know you. I know that chewing your ear off, or nagging you isn't going to do any good. So, in this case I'm going to take a different tactic." He raises an eyebrow in response.

"Really?" her smile widens and she nods innocently.

"Gideon?" Hotchner says entering the office. Gideon looks up at him.

"Yes?"

"I just got off the phone with Detective Newell and they need your statement. I have a feeling that the DA would prefer to use your kidnapping over the arson/murder charges." Hotchner directs a smile at Elle, who returns it with a wink. Gideon isn't quite sure what to make of their exchange.

"Well then I suppose I ought to head to the station then?" he makes a move to stand and sits back down for a moment.

"Are you all right?" Elle inquires, placing the paper cup on his desk as she springs to her feet and rushes to his side. He rests his forehead in his hand.

"I'm fine, just got up too quickly is all." He replies slowly rising to his feet.

"I'll take you to the station." She adds, forgetting about her coffee. Hotchner moves aside to let them pass.

"J.J. has a new case, I'll get the details and bring you two up to speed when you return."

"Thanks." Elle says as she and Gideon head towards the elevators. Reid and Morgan lift their heads, watching as the doors close behind them.

"Hotch!" Morgan calls and Hotchner makes his way down the few steps that separate the bullpen from the conference rooms and offices.

"I think I may have given Gideon his chance to face his true kidnapper." Hotchner says in a monotone, both Reid and Morgan eye him.

"You do realise that if given the chance he'll kill him right?" Morgan says under his breath.

"Only if allowed in the same room alone." Reid snickers.

"Before I forget, conference room in about half an hour. If they aren't back, I'll brief them when they return." Hotchner adds.

"Sure, no problem." Morgan says as Hotchner heads back to his office and the pile paperwork that had been neglected over the past week. Morgan sighs when he thinks of how long it will take him to catch up; and cannot help but wish he had Reid's ability to recall facts and figures at will as it would make this tedious task of paperwork a breeze.

---

Entering the police station, Gideon and Elle head straight to the front desk. The officer lifts his head and puts the file he had been working on aside.

"May I help you?" he inquires.

"I'm Special Agent Jason Gideon. I'm here to make my statement." He says calmly.

"Statement?" he doesn't hide his puzzled expression. "I'm sorry sir, but it says here that you're to question the suspect. Apparently your expertise is necessary." He hands the file to Gideon, who in turn accepts them and nods. Elle knows exactly what's happened.

"You wanted to really face him. I suppose this is your chance. Are you sure you want to do this? I can complete the questioning and give the paperwork to the detective for the DA if you like." She follows him as he heads towards the interrogation room. He slips out of his jacket and draping it over a chair, he motions for Elle to follow.

"Anthony Rogers?" he says calmly. Anthony looks up at him.

"Look who's back for more." He hisses, probably in an attempt to intimidate him; however, Gideon stares him down, ice in his gaze as he sits in the seat across from him ready for whatever came his way. Gideon quickly skims the contents of the file in front of him.

"So my understanding is that Oliver Hanson hired you to wipe out his competition?" Gideon ignores the looks Rogers shoots him.

"Yeah, that's right." He replies. "I just thought that it would better serve me to completely rid myself of him and any implication. It's bad for business." He adds, sitting back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him; knowing that the officers don't like aggressive body language.

"I see. So the men you murdered what?"

"It's never personal. What I do is just a job that allows me to utilise the skills I possess." He snorts. "Having you kidnapped was just the beginning of my re-emergence. Ridding myself of you would have solved everything." He adds, then turns his attention towards Elle. She merely rolls her eyes and remains in her place at Gideon's side. Folding his hands on the table in between them, his shirtsleeve creeps up slightly, revealing the white gaze still covering the wound.

"What you fail to understand are the charges the DA will no doubt have assembled against you. Forget the fact that you kidnapped and attempted to murder a Federal agent, you've tortured and murdered at least half a dozen people, set numerous blazes. I'd say you're lucky if you ever see the outside again. You will get the max on all charges, I guarantee you that." Gideon gestures for him to lean in. "Also keep in mind while you're in there that I can make your life hell." He whispers just low enough for Elle to hear. She smirks and folds her arms tightly across her chest.

"How long have you waited to be sitting here with me?"

"Long enough." Gideon replies standing. "And once again. I'm the one walking out of here." He says, leaving Anthony in his wake.

---

Surrounding him are the serene sights and sounds of dusk, caressing his sense like music. He sits himself on the dock, removing his shoes and socks, then dips his feet into the cool water. He enjoys the pleasant memories of times past creeping into his mind and smiles, contenting himself with the simplicity of watching the sun as she begins to set— sinking ever so gracefully behind the trees. He hears the familiar hoot of the great horned owls off in the distance, having been roused by the cues following the dimming of the day. Picking up his drink, he finishes the contents before standing. Scooping up his socks and shoes and taking a cleansing deep breath; he enjoys the feeling of the dock underfoot, then the cool softness of the grass between his toes as he heads back to his cabin— the one place where he can feel 'safe and secure', his 'secret' hideaway that continues to provide him with joy, comfort, and peace of mind.

Closing the door behind and placing his shoes on a mat set beside it, Gideon walks through the open concept kitchen into the living room and gathers kindling for the woodstove from the cupboard. Arranging the wood, he finds the matches and lights the kindling, then partially closes the door. Standing in front of the shelf of CDs, he quickly finds one to his liking and places it in the CD player. Turning it up with a bright smile, he returns to the kitchen to prepare a light late dinner. He had left Quantico a bit later than anticipated; however, didn't want to miss out on the beauty of the sunset, an evening ritual he has enjoyed ever since he can remember— one of the best ways to let the stress of the day, this week in particular, just melt away.

The End


End file.
